Lifemates
by Leia
Summary: [Complete] Bulma: her breakup with Yamucha was mutual and friendly. Vegeta: Bulma's love life isn't his problem. So why are they questioning themselves? Dreams, sleepwalking, and an ancient Saiyajin myth just might provide the answer . . .


Disclaimer: You all know the drill.  You all know the disclaimer by heart.  

A/N: Don't ask what possessed me to write this one....  but I like it, so there.  

**Lifemates**

"Give it back, you idiot!"  Bulma Briefs shrieked hysterically.  "Please!  Give it back!"  

Vegeta laughed wickedly.  He was holding a piece of paper back over his head, and was watching with amusement as the woman struggled to retrieve it.  "You're pathetic," he sneered.  Bulma leapt at him, but Vegeta encircled her slender wrist with his hand and held her at arm's length.  

Bulma fought for a few more minutes, then finally gave up.  "Fine," she screamed at him, pulling her wrist out of his grasp.  "Keep it!  Whatever you want.  I don't care!"  

"Finally you come to your senses," Vegeta snickered.  "I always get what I want.  I think I'll just keep this for a while." 

For some reason, the woman seemed close to tears as she stormed away.  "I hope the next time the trainer explodes, it takes you with it!"  

Vegeta watched her go, chuckling to himself.  "She's on fire today!"  he glanced at the letter in his hand, which Bulma had been so anxious to get.  He wasn't even sure why he'd taken it, but when he'd seen Bulma writing the letter, Vegeta hadn't been able to resist causing a little mischief.  

It had Yamucha's name on the outside, and the Saiyajin prince made a face.  It was probably some mushy love letter . . .  Vegeta grinned and opened the envelope.  Time for blackmail!  

_Dear Yamucha_, it began.  Vegeta could tell instantly from the handwriting -- and from ink blurs that could only be from teardrops -- that it was no love letter, but something made him keep reading.  

_I'm sorry.  I don't want to write this, but I have to.  Maybe you've sensed it, too.  You're very important to me, and you're one of my best friends in the entire universe . . .  and I think we'd better leave it at that_.  [Vegeta blinked in surprise.  Was Bulma calling it off with her boyfriend?] _I've had a good time while we were together, but something's missing . . .  whatever we had that started our relationship isn't there anymore.  _

_It hurts me to say this, but I figure it's better that we don't try to pretend.  Please understand that it's nothing to do with you or me -- it's us.  I wish there was some other way...  I'll understand if you hate me after this, and I guess you have every right to, but I hope someday you can forgive me.  I hope we can be the best of friends again.  I still love you, just in a different way.  _

_Always and forever, _

_Bulma__.  _

Vegeta's eyes widened, and he placed the letter back in its envelope slowly.  So . . .  it was finally over.  That meant the woman would probably cry for days now, disrupting his training and giving him headaches.  It was weird; the woman and her human companion (who was weak, but not really a bad person) had been like a constant -- they'd kept each other occupied and out of Vegeta's way.  It would be odd dealing with the woman on her own.  

A sudden feeling flickered through Vegeta's mind -- guilt, perhaps, for spying in on the woman's private life.  He shook away the emotion.  Ridiculous.  

Feeling uncomfortable nonetheless, Vegeta picked up the paper and found himself walking upstairs, to the woman's room.  He didn't bother knocking, but barged straight in, still yelling at his subconscious to stop making him feel so guilty.  

Bulma was sitting curled up on one corner of her bed, hugging a ragged teddy bear to her chest.  Vegeta always made fun of her for sleeping with stuffed animals ("Why, doesn't your companion suit your needs?"  "SHUT UP!!"), but now he didn't say anything about them.  "Here," he shoved the envelope into her hands, noting how he had crushed it in his fists.  

Bulma put the paper in her pocket without looking up, and it was then that Vegeta saw the dark purple bruises on her pale wrists.  Had he given her those?  He certainly hadn't meant to!  Vegeta growled inwardly -- it was folly for a man who had killed milliions to be worried about giving a loud-mouthed female a few minor injuries.  But still it plagued him . . .  

She finally raised her face, and it was streaked with tears.  "So, you're finished with it," she snarled, but it lacked the conviction her arguments usually contained.  "Did you read it out loud somewhere or make copies and send it to everyone I know?"  

"Why would I do that?"  Vegeta snorted.  "I couldn't care less about your personal life." 

"But you read it." 

He was beginning to get angry.  "I did not!"  he spun on his heel and started to leave.  

"Vegeta . . ." 

Vegeta's shoulders hunched at the sound of her voice, quiet and pleading.  "Maybe I read it.  So what?"  

Bulma sighed, wiping her eyes.  "Well?  What do you think?"  

He shrugged.  "About time you dropped Yam-face and found someone stronger." 

Bulma's eyebrows pulled together in frustration.  "What do you have against him, anyway?"  

"He's a weakling." 

"He's strong, for our species," Bulma countered, "And he's a good man.  Not to mention he isn't a sadistic, opinionated chauvinist like someone I know.  He might not be perfect, but at least he tries." 

Vegeta cocked an eyebrow.  "Really.  If he's such a great catch, why did you leave him?"  

Bulma buried her face in the teddy bear's chest again.  "I don't know . . .  it's just not special anymore.  I think Yamucha and I have the potential to be really close friends again, but our romantic relationship hasn't gone anywhere for a couple years now.  It's like --" she cut herself short, looking disgusted.  "Never mind.  I'm talking to Mr.  Heart-of-Stone himself.  Sorry, Vegeta, this is probably really boring." 

Vegeta felt insulted somehow, but didn't let it show.  "You don't know much, do you?"  he shot at her, then left.  

Bulma made a face at his back, then sighed and pulled the crumpled sheet from her pocket.  "Might as well give it to him.  There's no use stalling." 

****** 

A few days later, Bulma sat in the living room, tears welling up in her eyes.  She had given Yamucha the letter, and they'd talked it over . . .  both of them agreed that their relationship would be better off platonic.  However, it was painful for Bulma and Yamucha to deal with the change in situation right away, and they decided to stay away from each other for a week or so.  

Now, Bulma sighed.  No one had told her how hard it would be to go back to being "just friends."  _It would be so much easier if I could love Yamucha, but I don't.  Why do feelings have to be so complicated?_  

But they were.  Bulma rubbed her forehead, feeling the beginning of a migraine setting in.  Unconsciously her gaze was drawn to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room -- the one they only used when her father entertained potential business clients.  Bulma shook her head and went for the cabinet.  

As she reached for the door, Bulma found her arm suddenly rendered immobile; Bulma looked down and sat that Vegeta had grasped her hand.  He must have been standing in the shadows the whole time.  "Don't even think about it, woman," he warned.  

Bulma glared.  "I'm a big girl, Vegeta, I can take care of myself." 

"Not if you're drunk," Vegeta pointed out sternly.  "You should get some rest.  You look really tired." 

"What are you, my father?"  

He scowled.  "Well, he isn't here, is he?  You obviously need someone to make sure you don't do anything stupid." 

"Ve..ge.." Bulma's lip quivered, then she flung herself at him, crying hard.  "I hate my feelings!  Do you know how confusing it is to want to love someone, but you can't?  It's so hard!"  

Vegeta put up with this for all of five seconds before shoving her away.  "Bed, woman.  Not me.  You're a wreck." 

Instead of getting angry, Bulma just nodded and went upstairs, after apologizing to Vegeta for losing control like that.  Vegeta stared after her, frowning.  The woman was acting so differently . . .  it was like the core of strength inside her had shattered.  Somehow, Vegeta almost felt sorry for her.  Almost.  

Late that night, Vegeta still hadn't gone back outside.  He had pushed himself to the limit that morning, and his muscles weren't cooperating.  Vegeta drank yet another glass of water and was pouring a new one when he heard creaking coming from the stairs.  

Curious, Vegeta stuck his head around the corner and saw Bulma walking unsteadily down the steps, like she was in a trance.  "Where are you?"  she was muttering.  "I have to find you!"  

She stumbled on the last step, and Vegeta caught her instinctively.  "Find who?"  he asked, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.  "Yamucha?"  

"No," Bulma shook her head, eyes glassy, and Vegeta realized she was sleepwalking.  "Not Yam . . .  not Yamucha," she passed a hand over her eyes, still unseeing.  "My soulmate -- I have to find him . . .  I don't want to be alone." 

Vegeta frowned.  "Stop talking nonsense, woman!  Wake up!"  he knew it wasn't recommended to wake a somnambulist, but Bulma was looking so distressed that it had nearly begun to worry him.  

Bulma began to cry -- huge, wracking sobs that shook her whole body.  "I don't want to be alone . . .  I need to find him . . .  I keep looking and looking, but he's always in the dark.  I can't see him --" 

Vegeta had seen this happen once before, after the woman had had a fight with her b -- well, former boyfriend.  The woman's father had held her on his lap and rocked her like a child until she fell back asleep, but Vegeta was certainly not going to do that!  But the woman was starting to become hysterical; he had to do something, else he would never get a moment's peace.  

The tears were cascading down her face now, and without thinking Vegeta wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, giving her a place to cry.  "Stop it," he commanded firmly.  "Stop," Vegeta repeated the order over and over, but each time it was said with less severity, until he was speaking almost gently.  

At last Bulma's sobs abated, and she relaxed in his arms.  "There you are," she whispered, drawing in her breath sharply like she'd made an important discovery.  "I've found you!"  

"O, no you don't!"  Vegeta snapped, alarmed.  He hadn't anticipated this.  "I'm not your soulmate, or whatever you call it." 

But the woman wasn't listening.  She raised her head and smiled at him, though Vegeta could tell she didn't know who he was.  "Thank you," Bulma leaned forward and kissed him, startling Vegeta so much that by the time he thought to pull away, it was already over.  

Bulma rested her head on his shoulder, put her arms around his neck, and fell asleep.  Vegeta stood in shock, still holding her to him, then he gathered his wits and picked her up, thinking idly that she was lighter than she looked.  

He carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed, pulling the blankets over her awkwardly.  Confused as to the feelings that were tugging at him, Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed and stared out into space.  Soulmates . . .  on his home planet of Vegetaseii, the term was "lifemate," and it was extremely rare.  Most couples did not form the mental and emotional bond of lifemates . . .  to share one was an honour and a gift.  Vegeta frowned in thought.  This woman thought they could be lifemates -- soulmates?  No . . .  this was stupid.  Bulma had been sleepwalking and didn't know what she was saying, and Vegeta had to get back to his training.  

Vegeta turned to leave, but something stopped him and he glanced down at Bulma's sleeping form.  Something compelled him to reach out a hand to brush her hair off her face, but he gained control of his muscles just in time.  "Blast you," he whispered.  Bulma would recall nothing of this when morning came, whereas he would be stuck with the memory forever.  Vegeta's lip curled in dismay; in that brief moment when the two were together, Vegeta had realized how much he was missing -- and how much he needed the lifemate's bond.  That simple kiss had cursed him; doomed him to live a life knowing what he could have had, if only Bulma had been awake.  She'd never believe him, if he told her . . .  if only they were both not so proud.  

Then it hit him.  Vegeta suddenly felt it -- the connection, the tie.  The yearning.  In that instant, he knew; he had formed a one-sided bond with this female.  Vegeta growled to himself.  It was ridiculous, that a warrior should bond with a noisy, lower-class . . .  beautiful, intelligent . . .  woman.  The Saiyajin groaned, feeling a deep sense of regret.  The bond of lifemates was the deepest and most sacred honour two lovers could share -- yet, with one half unfulfilled, it had become a nightmare.  Like it or not, Vegeta knew he was trapped by his own feelings.  

"Blast you," Vegeta whispered again.  "Look what you've done to me!  I can't be satisfied now, knowing what I'm missing," he swore under his breath and stalked away.  "If you only knew who you were talking to!"  

Bulma rolled over in her sleep, and a smile touched her lips.  "Vegeta," she murmured.  

****** 


End file.
